


In Search Of Eden

by INKCHILD17



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Death, Demons, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction, Fantasy, Gang, Jeronica, Love, M/M, Riverdale, Romance, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampires, War, Werewolves, Witches, dark themes, half breed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INKCHILD17/pseuds/INKCHILD17
Summary: "When I say I love you, its not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I'm in love with what you are, what you do and how you try. I've seen you kindness and your strength. I've seen the best and the worst of you. And I understand with perfect clarity exactly who you are. You're everything to me, and if you don't want me now, I'll wait eternity until you do."
Relationships: Barchie - Relationship, Betty Cooper/Archie Andrews, Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Betty Cooper (past), Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge, Kevin Keller/Moose Mason, Polly Cooper/Jason Blossom, Toni Topaz/Cheryl Blossom, jeronica - Relationship, past bughead - Relationship, vughead - Relationship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	In Search Of Eden

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own Riverdale or any of its aspects, it all belongs to the rightful owners.
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This story will feature dark themes. It will also feature a dark and enigmatic Jughead. Also characters might be a bit OOC.

Many will say that he shed innocent blood, that he massacred thousands for the sake of a cause that was unjust. But what does blood exist for? Is it not meant to be shed? To be sacrificed for what is believed to be the greater good?

Betty’s words burned into his skull; each phrase had made so much more sense to him before. Betty was a woman that he’d loved and worshipped as a goddess—someone Jughead saw as his soulmate. Who would have guessed that this woman had been the very thing that almost destroyed and ruined him?

Moulded into her desired product or weapon. Jughead’s destiny went way beyond that of a common man. His birth was actually a foreseen pivotal. They say it began when a witch was shown a vision.

A prophecy.

He was promised his name to be plastered upon thousands of walls. Mention of Jughead’s name would invoke fear in the coldest. The name Forsythe Pendleton Jones the III was to be feared, celebrated and praised among the supernatural masses. All that his childhood was became dissolved in the ashes and brimstone of hell. His name had been his burden.  
A grave with Jughead’s name engraved awaited him. He was blinded by his darkness and need to combat his hellish nature. He was buried by all his demons.  
Hell hasn’t done him much justice in his past so Jughead didn’t expect it in his future, yet here he was. His fate was something he’d ran away from his entire life. Jughead looked over his shoulder not afraid of what was there but for what had been on the other side. Not knowing he was a part of it…

Jughead was what people had to fear. He was the shadow that crept along the wall and tormented everybody’s already frightened soul.

Even though he never asked for this—any of this.

But this story isn’t just about him, or about her, or the lives lost and of course sacrificed.

It is about the cost to either be king or choose death.  
.

.

.  
Jughead has been awake for three days straight. Three agonizing days. Of course his body has without a doubt gone further than usual without the slightest increments of sleep. Deprivation and insomnia, Jughead had been all to familiar with. It’s currently what superstitious souls would call the “peak” of the witching hour.

This is the exact time that his medications fails to work, every single prescription is useless. Jughead’s mind is robbed of the little shred of silence that it can find. The voices plague his every thought and the darkness eats at the solitude he escapes to in his psyche. Feeding of every moment of lamentation.

Jughead found himself playing Russian Roulette alone, starring at the branding between his thumb and pointer finger.

Moments like these is where Jughead would encourage no one to be near him. His hellish instincts take over and he has little to no control over them.

He sees contorted faces in the shadowy corners of his bedroom where the moonlight fails to grace. Jughead is fucking insane. He slowly has come to terms with this. As a child, he was afraid but as a grown man Jughead has found a bit of solace. They’ve become his friend.

However, he gets aggravated by their presence as if they were as real as the darkness that resides inside him. Everything he experienced was assumed to be an illusion or delusion. By doctors he had been diagnosed with night terrors, psychosis but he knew better.

His thoughts are racing as fast as his heart and it’s hard for his brain to keep up with his mind. Jughead struggles to write and describe exactly what he sees in his daily life.

What he sees before he shuts his eyes at night. Sometimes, Jughead wishes he was blind but that wouldn’t be an escape from the voices. With pure concentration, he can move objects. Manipulate the darkness. And many other things, but Jughead still attempts to convince the world that he is ordinary.

At this very moment he can hear the darkness’s laughter. It feeds off of his torment, but it claims that it’s his protector and he is its. Jughead is it’s “host” and it is just another part of his soul.

Telling it to shut up doesn’t exactly work anymore. It finally has the upper hand. It has the power to wipe his memory, to erase what it pleases from his mind. It has admitted to this plenty of times.

Rambling on and on about what it can and cannot do.

Right now Jughead can’t even be annoyed. He sits in the corner of his bedroom observing the familiar surroundings while observing the night’s changes. While processing the fact that he might have found her…He’s been having recurring dreams about a woman whose eyes resemble his mother’s.

In another part of his dream, the woman cries resembling a bellowing voice similar to a banshee and was surrounded by flames.

Jughead had no idea what this meant but apparently to his friends and family. This was comical. He just prays and hopes that its nothing important. He would never wish this on his enemies. If people knew of this inner battle, he fights everyday they’d use it against him.

The women in his life especially…well one of them already tried.

In the midst of this he can’t stop himself from thinking about this woman that seems to invade his thoughts. It both surprised and pissed him off.

He didn’t like to waste his time or energy on anything unnecessary, yet he couldn’t stop wasting his time and energy shifting through the emotions that related to her.


End file.
